Posts tagged ‘medication’

August 5, 2015

a monster enters my cell

by jhon baker

and I recognize myself from photographs strewn across the internet and placed among my parents things.

the black notebooks sit unused in pockets of jean jackets with Mont Blanc pens attached.

stop world consciousness existed before the medications and stability ruined the mirror image of perplexion.

an ant crawls joyfully on the lattice work of wrought iron patio furniture careful not to upset the balance.

and the dead birds come in droves.

parallels of superable considerations and a fly crawls across the rim of a coffee cup, awake and staggeringly beautiful.

they pray from both ends.

journaling thoughts later for storage into a vat of nothingness and I toughen up.

bleeding hearts are broken by mean looks and stern words spoken abruptly.

I kick the dirt under my walking boots and wonder how many creatures I’ve killed in similar fashion.

fresh page unshaven and unwritten, strands of a broken spine stumble all pencils in the margin.

sado-masochist with aim only for his own conditions tries coke for the first time. gets bitten.

shameful secret is out and we cannot control individual reactions to fake legs and prosthetic fingers.

a hallowed shell – a spent cartridge is still illegal in the right company.

 

December 31, 2013

New Years Eve

by jhon baker

I do not make resolutions specifically for this date – I make them when I need to have made them. I made my last new years resolution many years ago stating that I would never again make another new years resolution and so far I haven’t. In the past several months I’ve made a few decisions that I am carrying through with into the new year but this is not the same thing. I’ve taken up playing the trumpet and am sticking with it with lessons and everything and I’ve quit smoking to be a better trumpet player (more lung capacity; better breath).

I like to beat dead horses.

There are many things I don’t need – a specified day to start something new is one of those things I don’t need.

But onto another subject.

I haven’t written in months and last night wrote a few lines of poetry – for my wife, always for my wife…

 

I love you

and that may be all

shared coffee over old television shows

and newer series watched in minute marathons

 

It needs more and I will write more for it but for now it is there waiting and I take the medications carefully every night and every morning. I build catapults with my son and watch him build with Legos.

and I sing the song of my people.

February 25, 2013

poem

by jhon baker

god, or somebody,

bless

him

 

I take the doctors pink and white pills

and the blue/green one

with water before bed and

again when I wake up

everyday

and, supposedly,

they keep me sane and stable.

 

it’s not pleasant to die on the cross

or in back alleys and one way streets.

 

when I’m sick I swallow vitamins

and drink a lot of orange juice.

it helps.

and my hair doesn’t fall out

any faster then the approaching middle age.

I do not have cancer

though I smoke a pack a day.

 

It’s not charming to be awoken after dying

without permissions from the dead.

 

yesterday I spent an

inordinate amount of time in bed

for no reason

and had a lot of dreams,

none of which I remember now.

life, is boring – Henry says

and friends, I believe him

 

 

– Hoc Scripsi

February 8, 2013

untitled dream #3

by jhon baker

untitled dream #3

 

we are west sixty-six revisited

we are bound

bordered between psychiatry and madness

and we celebrate in ceremony

counting one to four,

four to one.

 

in the arena of dreaming

a precipice with feet teetering

don’t look back!

playing Aeolian harp

singing our __________.

 

keep it simple, Orpheo.

don’t look back.

a love lost within scope of wandering

and vanished.

itself playing on bent shaft

itself a white lily

itself a love under guise

itself a nuclear proliferation.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

January 26, 2013

standards

by jhon baker

I’ve lowered my standards,
the problem might be that I had them in the first place.
you easily forget when you were at your best
in endless pursuit to surmount each previous work
and your output dwindles until you are
only writing fifty poems a year
which I guess is fine
though it is easier to say more if so inclined
and uninhibited
by meaningless constraints and various medications.

but don’t worry,
I’m still on the medications.

– Hoc Scripsi

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